Volume 11 part 2

Volume 11 part 2

“You ******! That woman is dead! Do you see my clothes? Even as her head cracked open and she bled out, she wouldn’t let go of them, so I had to pry her fingers off one by one. Stubborn ****! I spat at her corpse as it floated downstream. Hahaha!”

“My sword.”

When he coldly held out his hand, the captain of the guards quickly drew his sword and handed it over. Ixor drove the blade into Zelgirk’s eye through the gap in the coffin lid.

“Argh!”

As Zelgirk screamed and recoiled, Ixor forcefully slammed the coffin lid shut with his foot.

Bang! 

The heavy coffin echoed as it closed. Once it was locked, Ixor personally set a torch to the firewood.

The logs, thoroughly soaked in oil, rapidly caught fire. As the flames roared higher, the coffin rattled violently.

Ixor stood still before the blazing fire, watching the metal coffin turn a searing yellow.

“AAAAAARGH!”

Zelgirk’s screams continued endlessly.

“You’re too close, my lord, it’s dangerous…”

The captain said with concern but stepped back at the chilling, emotionless look on Ixor’s face. The soldiers held their breath in fear.

The flames rose as though they would reach the sky. Yellow sparks flew wildly, even landing on Ixor’s arms and hands. His skin seemed to scorch from the heat, but he felt no pain, no heat at all.

At last, the firewood burned down to white ash. The soldiers poured water from jars onto the red-hot metal coffin, which hissed as it cooled.

Even after Zelgirk’s corpse and the coffin were removed and the courtyard cleaned, Ixor did not leave.

Though justice had been served, the emptiness from losing her remained. Nothing could fill that void.

He sat on the stairs where they used to play together, fingers interlaced, and quietly took in the familiar yet strange scenery.

The place she used to stand. The tree under which she laughed. Her back as she walked by, her slender waist wrapped in a white apron, a scarf on her head. Wearing tan leather gloves, making snowballs in winter.

Those memories, those images made his heart burn black. Every breath felt like inhaling fire, so painful he thought his soul would crumble.

Suddenly sensing a gaze, he turned. In front of Daon’s favorite flowerbed stood a young girl in a yellow dress, watching him.

Ixor stared at her blankly. The girl flinched, her shoulders drawn up, as she awkwardly raised a hand.

“Ah.”

He remembered—when meeting someone, you raise your hand to face level… Seeing the girl wave, Ixor mimicked the gesture expressionlessly.

“Hello.”

His husky greeting made the girl bounce shyly on the spot before she ran off.

Ixor turned to look at his hand. When he had clambered down the cliff searching for her, fearing she was caught on a ledge, his flesh had gouged against the rocks.

Now, the wounds had nearly smoothed over, he’d been healing without realizing it. He pulled a dagger from his waist and reopened the half-healed wound deeply.

***

The night before leaving Orlank, he went to the ballroom. Unused for ages, it was silent, and moonlight filtered through long navy damask curtains, painting the dance floor pale white.

He walked slowly to the center of the room, head raised to see the grand staircase, ghostly pale in the dim light.

He saw her then, etched so vividly in his mind, as beautiful as a May bride.

Ixor climbed halfway up the stairs, bowed, and extended a daring hand.

“Would you join me?”

She smiled with many faces—as on their wedding night, when sledding in the snow, during their picnic together and the last time he saw her. He couldn’t forget any of them.

Perhaps, with these memories, he could live his long life, sometimes in sorrow, sometimes in joy.

He took his stance and gazed into the air.

“My lady, do you remember the melody? Hm… if you’ve forgotten, let me help you. Tan-tan-tan, tan-tan-tan, tan-tan-tan. A beat here. Now, let’s go.”

He danced alone across the empty ballroom.

The wide white dress that once swelled and fluttered like petals, her flushed cheeks, her dark eyes twinkling with stars, the chandelier swaying in golden arcs above the floor.

“Tarum, tarum, tarum.”

He hummed and spun. Her scent. Her voice.

Suddenly, he stopped and raised both hands high. As her feet left the floor, Daon’s clear laughter rang in his ears.

He bent backward slightly and lowered his arms as if to embrace the empty air.

His hands were empty…

In this ballroom, where he had executed Zelgirk and held a brief wedding ceremony, he finally accepted her death. Acknowledged their bond was severed. That he had to walk through life alone.

Closing his eyes, he leaned his face into the air as if into her chest. Her scent came back to him vividly, and finally, a faint smile touched his lips. She was nowhere, yet always by his side.

***

“It’s been a while, Your Highness,” Zephar greeted gently with a formal bow.

Ixor, sitting at the window with a glass of liquor, leaned back leisurely.

In Late autumn, the world was gray, except for the marigolds in the garden, glowing richly.

Cold autumn rain pattered in with the wind, creating ripples in his glass. Ixor drained the last of his drink and rose from the window.

Sitting on the long bench in the center of the office, Zephar took the seat opposite him.

“The rain’s coming in. Your shoulders are quite wet.”

Looking down blankly, Ixor saw that at some point, his shoulders and arms were indeed soaked. He turned away and poured himself another drink.

“Call me what you used to. ‘My lord.’”

“…Yes, my lord.”

Zephar quickly changed the address after Ixor drained his glass.

Ixor resumed reviewing the report, waiting for Zephar to speak.

Silence stretched. Only the sounds of distant rain and wind remained.

At last, Zephar spoke.

“Now that your domain has expanded, you remain in the royal palace, I manage affairs, and the knights—Rob, Ace, Garun—are scattered at the borders. There’s little time for the camaraderie and jokes we used to share. I’m sorry I cannot stay by your side.”

“I’m not a child.”

“The palace staff worry you drink too much.”

Because of terrible insomnia, he had become dependent on alcohol—someone must have tattled.

“Say what you came to say.”

Cutting off the lecture, Ixor waited. Zephar, fingers interlaced on his lap, spoke slowly.

“I have found Princess Anna’s whereabouts.”

“…”

“Two months ago, after the sudden death of his father, Prince Dirk ascended the throne. The death was abrupt, but he was old anyway… The issue is that King Dirk wants this war to end quickly.”

“He made a deal with foreign powers?”

“Yes. He’s seeking Princess Anna.”

Ixor’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Confirming his suspicion, Zephar continued quickly.

“Dirk plans to marry her off to the Kingdom of Boline in exchange for their military aid. Boline seems eager to accept.”

“There’s plenty to gain from interfering in another’s war. Where is Anna now?”

“She’s imprisoned by a pirate captain formerly under Zelgirk’s command.”

“Sounds like the pirate has demands for Dirk.”

Even reeking of alcohol, Ixor rapidly pieced together the situation, and Zephar nodded in relief.

“He wants a title. And land, too.”

“…”

“Princess Anna must be killed. And I want her corpse sent to the Kingdom of Boline. So that she never even thinks of meddling in our affairs again.”

“Where is she?”

“If you allow it, I will release the soldiers.”

“I’ll go.”

“My lord!”

“Location.”

As he spat out the words in between clenched teeth and cut the conversation short with a fierce tone, Zephar flinched and pulled a map from his coat, spreading it out on the table.

While Ixor silently reviewed the map, Zephar added,

“The pirate captain is currently on his way to King Dirk. I’ve marked the expected route by date, so it shouldn’t be hard to track him down.”

Ixor crumpled the map in his hand and stood up from his seat.

Whooosh.

The rain intensified. He donned a long, black cloak and fastened the obsidian buckle.

As he strode out purposefully, four attendants ran ahead and flung open the massive double doors.

Bang!

With a heavy echo, the door opened completely. He marched swiftly through the wide and luxurious crimson corridor.

Twelve royal guards in black armor who had been waiting nearby followed with disciplined precision. Ixor slowly pulled his black hood down to cover his face up to his nose.

***

The autumn rain was bitterly cold. Raindrops dripped from the thatched roof and turned the dirt floor into muddy puddles. Princess Anna sat with her knees drawn up in the corner of a narrow barn, staring at the entrance.

Her unkempt hair clung stickily to her face, her hands were pitch black, and her fingernails filthy. She hadn’t changed clothes since being dragged off by the pirates, and they reeked.

Each time the pirates cast her lecherous glances, fear crushed her heart. The thought that those pig-like ******s could pounce on her at any moment made her feel like bursting into tears, but even her tears had long since dried up.

She had always lived in a house made of glass bathed in sunlight. A warm, sparkling, beautiful home. She had never imagined the mighty royal glass would ever shatter.

“Princess, next week you’ll be entering the palace.”

The pirate captain barged in and announced.

When she glared at him with fierce eyes, he grinned, revealing yellow teeth.

“Your brother says he’ll grant me the title of Count. Is that higher than Viscount of Zelgirk? Hmm? If the land’s as barren as Zelgirk’s, I’m not really interested in this deal.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I brought paper and a pen. Write to your brother now. Tell him to grant me the highest title.”

“…”

“I’ve worked hard keeping you safe from these rough men.”

When one pirate at the barn door ogled Anna, the captain smacked him on the back of the head and continued:

“So you should repay my kindness. If not, I’ll have to think of another way.”

On the day she went to the palace, once she met her brother, she would make sure these men paid…

Her trembling hands accepted the parchment and pen. The pirate captain smacked his lips with satisfaction.

“Obedient little princess. Once you marry into the Boline Kingdom, I guess we won’t be seeing each other again?”

“Boline?”

She suddenly looked up from the parchment. The captain arrogantly explained,

“They say you’ll marry the old king of Boline to forge an alliance. To bring Ixor down. Princess, the one who ruined your life is Ixor, so it’s a good thing, right?”

“That’s a lie! My brother would never sell me off to a foreign country!”

“Kuhuhuhu. Funny little princess. If your brother truly cared, he’d have sent soldiers—or begged for your return no matter the cost.”

“…”

“Anyway, good luck abroad.”

“I’m the princess of this country. I was born here.”

Cold raindrops struck Princess Anna’s forehead. The pirate captain shrugged as if to say so what, then snatched the letter.

He turned it over, frowning.

“You didn’t write anything weird, did you? I’ll take it to the village and check myself before sending it. My men are dumb as rocks, so I’ll go see for myself. If you wrote even a line of nonsense… you know what’ll happen, right?”

He suddenly reached out and grabbed her chest, breathing hot and damp air into her face.

“I wonder how a princess feels compared to other women.”

“You insolent dog! Remove your hand!”

Her shrill protest made the pirate captain give a mocking bow, chuckling as he stepped back. He then stomped outside and barked orders at his men:

“Don’t go near that woman until I return. If anyone so much as touches her, I’ll rip out your guts.”

Princess Anna bit her lip hard. Her whole body trembled as betrayal and fury whirled inside her.

She had believed her rescue had been delayed because the civil war left her brother with no time.

She staggered to her feet, leaning against the damp wooden wall.

Creak.

When she pushed the loose door open, pirates scraping grime from under their nails with daggers glared at her. Anna staggered forward.

“Princess, going to relieve yourself? Why not do it here and give us a show?”

“Wahaha!”

Laughter erupted from all around. Then, a note of concern arose among them.

“She’s not trying to escape, is she?”

“Let her go. That wench can’t do anything alone. She’ll be back in five minutes. She came crawling back the last time too.”

The forest, where raindrops gently fell, was calm and serene. The soaking ground moss was oddly soft underfoot.

Anna tilted her head like a madwoman and trudged on toward nowhere.

Tiny songbirds and squirrels hid beneath leaves.

As she crossed a shallow brook, the cool water lapping at her ankles stirred a faint feeling in her.

She craned her neck and looked up. Rain clouds drifted slowly across the sky—a refreshing sight.

The rain drenched her neck and seeped into her chest, cleansing her whole body.

Suddenly, her sorrow faded, and she felt free.

“Yellow is so beautiful.”

She plucked a small mountain flower and smiled. Its scent was far fresher and more elegant than all the perfumes of the palace. She tucked the flower into her chest and walked on peacefully.

The forest ended, and she came to a road lined with wheat fields. The world shone with a vivid yellow so bright it stung the eyes. As the wind whooshed, the vast wheat fields danced like waves.

Crossing a bridge, she entered a village, where people avoided her with disgusted looks.

She realized then—it had been over a year since she’d washed or combed her hair. Her expensive foreign-made dress was filthy, her coat missing.

“Here, have this.”

A merchant selling flat round bread handed her three steaming pieces wrapped in white cloth. They looked delicious.

She had never in her life known the feeling of delicious, fragrant, or warm. She had never known cold, hunger, pain, loss, or despair.

Anna ignored the merchant and mumbled as she crossed the noisy marketplace.

“I’m a princess.”

As she passed a poultry shop stacked with cages, she spotted the pirate captain exiting an inn in the distance. A loud cry followed.

“That’s the wanted fugitive! Catch her!”

Anna darted into an alley. She sat on the rain-soaked ground and leaned her tired back against the mud wall, waiting for the chaos to pass.

She had no strength left to rise. No reason to rise, either.

“Come here, dear. Come rest here.”

A middle-aged woman in a rough headscarf beckoned from the alley’s entrance. Anna haughtily commanded,

“Bring me hot honey water with orange. Then I’ll bestow the blessing of the royal family upon you.”

The woman blinked in disbelief, clicked her tongue, and walked away. The marketplace noise faded—maybe from exhaustion, maybe just distance. Anna looked up at the rain falling between buildings and closed her eyes.

Did she fall asleep for a moment?

Shivering, she rubbed her arms and opened her eyes again. A dark figure stood before her, shielding the rain. At first, she thought it was the angle of death.

But soon, she recognized him.

Ixor, wearing a black hood pulled down over his nose, silently looked at her. Anna’s gaze shifted from the cup in his hand to the sword at his waist.

He came to kill me.

She understood immediately.

Ixor crouched and handed her hot honey water with floating orange slices.

“Slowly. Drink it all.”

She smiled faintly. The cup he offered looked childish, like a toy. It was shaped like a cheerful frog. A vivid memory of their childhood conversation resurfaced.

Back then, she had tilted her head at the frog and asked,

‘What’s this?’

‘A Frog.’

‘A Frog? What’s that?’

‘A magical creature that brings happiness.’

‘Happiness? What’s that?’

Was she remembering that old story?

Princess Anna took the frog-shaped cup with half tears and half a smile. The yellow honey and orange shone as brightly as the sun.

When she brought the cup to her lips with trembling hands, an enchantingly sweet aroma and soft steam caressed her face.

It was warm. She carefully blew on it and took a sip.

“Ah…”

Her wet eyelids quivered and then gently closed in comfort. The sweetness filled her mouth, slid down her throat, and pooled warmly in her belly. Her hands were warm, her stomach was warm—it truly felt like happiness.

“Wonderful.”

She looked into Ixor’s eyes as tears streamed down her face. The world turned hazy, like it had been swallowed by mist.

Eventually, the last tear dropped into the now-empty cup with a soft plop.

Princess Anna straightened her stiff neck and lifted her chin with pride as she spoke with grace.

“Gwin Ixor Malkuth, may the blessing of the royal house be upon your future.”

***

Ixor returned to the palace, shrugged off his soaked coat, handed it to an attendant, and headed to his office.

Water dripped from his boots with every step.

“A guest is waiting for you,” the attendant bowed.

He wasn’t in the mood to meet anyone, but unlike when he wasn’t a king, as a king, he had to.

Without even changing clothes, Ixor went straight to the parlor. The man who rose to greet him was a familiar face.

“An honor to see you, Your Majesty.”

The head merchant bowed respectfully.

Ixor ordered wine to be brought and slumped into the chair across from him. He filled his glass with strong liquor and downed it in one gulp. Then the head merchant carefully spoke.

“Lately, I’ve taken to selling charcoal. The products from a charcoal-making village in the valley behind Orlank are excellent, but the place is so remote it’s hard to get the goods out. The road is rough, but the profits are substantial.”

“Do you want to make a deal with the royal family?”

“That would be great, but I came to speak about something else today.”

“Speak.”

“Two weeks ago, I went to that village and met a hunchbacked old man who came to buy liquor. They say he lives deep in the mountains with a crippled woman—quite a beauty, apparently.”

“…”

“The old man’s greedy. He said he considered selling her to a tavern in a big town for some money. But since she’s mentally unstable, she’s no use to him, so he just complains that she wastes food.”

Ixor sighed with annoyance.

As he poured another drink, the merchant continued, his expression darkening.

“He showed me the woman… Hm. I almost bought her myself, but he said someone else already gave him a generous down payment. He’s agreed to sell her by the end of the month. No matter how I tried to persuade him, he wouldn’t budge.”

“Get to the point.”

“Here…”

The merchant untied a carefully wrapped leather bundle and placed it on the table.

“He claimed this was a precious jewel. I said diamonds don’t have color and bought it cheap.”

“A diamond?”

Ixor cynically lifted his glass from his lips.

Clatter!

The glass slipped from his hand, hit the table, and shattered on the marble floor.

The merchant had shown him a ring.

A red diamond ring.

The only one of its kind in the world.

It felt like a lightning bolt had struck him square in the head.

Ixors pupils widened, and his fingers twitched as if convulsing.

The merchant cautiously asked,

“Isn’t that the ring the lady of Orlank Castle used to wear?”

Ixor leapt across the table, grabbed the merchant, and shouted,

“Where did you find this?”

“Your Majesty, please prepare yourself. From what I saw, the woman’s condition is a bit…”

“Location! Tell me where!”

The moment he heard the location, he mounted his horse.

Thunder rolled in the distance. Ignoring his guards, he tore through the muddy ground like a storm.

His hands trembled, and his heart pounded wildly.

Daon is alive.

That single thought sent a rush of energy through his once lifeless body.

To Orlank, to Orlank.

His mind was already there, but his horse could not go fast enough.

Brown leaves crumbled under the hooves. He stormed across the land like a hurricane.

He neither ate nor drank—just clenched his teeth and rode, switching horses when needed, for days without rest.

His hands, without gloves, cracked and bled, but he felt no pain.

Eventually, the rain stopped.

His soaked clothes dried under the autumn sun, and in the distance, the path to Orlank came into view.

It was a hellish year.

Like being submerged in dark water. A time when he couldn’t breathe from the crushing weight on his heart.

He had only lived dry and meaningless days since he lost her.

Now, the tightly shut doors of sensation had finally burst open.

He smelled earth.

He could sense the wind.

Ixor took a deep breath.

He was going to her.

Finally, he could breathe again.

He snapped through the thick branches blocking his path. Leaves rained down on his thighs. A broken branch scraped his arm, but he climbed the mountain, fixated ahead.

Sweat drenched his neck and chest. The merchant had said the place was deep in the mountains, unreachable by horse.

It was barely a village, just five or six low-roofed mud houses.

He found the hunchback easily. The old man glanced at him and waved his hand to dismiss him.

“She’s already been sold. And I worked hard to keep her alive. I don’t know why you want to see her but…”

Ixor grabbed the man’s collar and lifted him off the ground. The man squealed and gestured toward a shabby hut.

It looked like it once housed livestock. Thick branches were placed between the posts to serve as makeshift bars.

Ixor dropped the old man. Inside, crouched in the dim hut, was a young woman.

She had a filthy face, muddy hands, small bare feet which were covered in dirt. Her long, messy hair hid most of her face, but he recognized her instantly.

It was her.

He couldn’t breathe.

He clutched his chest and twisted his fist as if squeezing his heart. With heavy breaths, he took one step at a time toward her.

Electric tension surged through his body.

He knelt and grabbed one of the thick branches.

Daon looked up warily and stared at him.

Creak.

Ixor undid the latch and flung the door open.

Still, she didn’t move.

On closer inspection, a rough rope was tied around her ankle.

His jaw tightened with rage, and his eyes glinted with murderous intent. The old man, sensing danger, stammered,

“I-I found her last winter, sire! Her head was bleeding and she looked dead… Then she miscarried and lost her mind. I saved her, you know!”

“Money.”

He ordered. The guard captain dumped a sack of silver coins on the ground. The old man scrambled to gather them and fled.

Ixor dismissed everyone else. Then he cut the rope and faced her outside the hut.

She flinched and slowly shook her head when he stood still in front of her.

Then their eyes met.

The same eyes he had always loved.

A faint smile crept onto his face.

“What’s that?”

Daon was clutching something with gnarled hands. She held it tightly in both hands like a treasure, it looked like nothing but a rotting piece of cloth. Only when he saw the few red tassels remaining did he realize, it was the sachet.

The birthday gift he had once given her. The object that first connected their hearts. Even with her lost memory, she had kept it all this time.

He remembered her gentle, bittersweet confession,

‘I love you.’

And his playful reply,

‘I love you more. Should we bet on who loves more?’

‘Then I’ll bet on myself.’

He had never dared ask how deeply she loved him, because he was afraid of the answer.

“Hah…”

Tears welled up without warning. He laughed shakily, overwhelmed.

Daon, confused by his sudden change, gently touched the tear at the corner of his eye.

He softly took her muddy wrist. She flinched but didn’t pull away.

Ixor slowly closed his eyes. Then guided her hand to his face—His forehead, down the bridge of his nose, tracing the trail of his tears.

As if to show her:

I’m the one connected to your scent sachet.

As if to say:

I’m the man from the memories you lost.

Her fingers brushed his lips. He kissed her palm—Like that first night, with the wind howling outside the window.

Daon stiffened but followed his lead with searching eyes.

He drew her hand lower, past his neck, stopping on his firm chest. Looking into her eyes, he didn’t blink.

She swallowed dryly from the intensity. Beneath her palm, his heart beat wildly.

“Not once have I ever let you go in here.”

He whispered hoarsely.

She slowly clenched her fist on his chest.

Ixor smiled gently. Then, with his trademark cheer and confidence, greeted her,

“Hello, my lady. We’ve met before.”

This should be the end of the main story. However, the Epilogues feel very essential to me. And if you are wondering, then yes, there is no time skip in the first Epilogue. It is so warm, I like it.